


The Boy and the Demon

by mvphi



Series: The Boy and The Demon [1]
Category: The Boy and the Demon
Genre: M/M, TBATD, The Boy and The Demon - Freeform, mvphi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-18 05:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvphi/pseuds/mvphi
Summary: Upon meandering, a strange boy discovers a mysterious blade. When unearthed from the column, he discovers a quite peculiar thing.





	1. Ivory Woods

**Author's Note:**

> ##WARNING##  
> there are mentions of multiple mental illnesses (schizophrenia, anxiety, depression, suicidal tendencies, insomnia, and paranoia; all mental illnesses i have researched thoroughly or have experienced), self-harm, character death, gore imagery, slight profanity, and depictions of heaven and hell
> 
> ~
> 
> welcome to the first installment of my original story: the boy and the demon!  
> this is a remastered version of a story i made a long time ago. 
> 
> ~
> 
> quick notes:  
> english/british characters  
> anthropomorphic characters (first off, i’m not a furry lmao, second, if you prefer to imagine the characters as human, that’s fine with me!)
> 
> ~
> 
> _reviews and feedback are much appreciated. i hope you enjoy!_

Chapter One: Ivory Woods

The Winter's never-ending snowflakes cascaded from the cloudy, grey sky; landing smoothly onto the chilling packs of snow. The coldness of the forest's environment was always so wretchedly harsh, resulting in more harmful situations for the flora and fauna who were already struggling with shelter and food for their young to begin with. On the other hand, the wood was beautifully displayed in the Winter as being a heavenly colour with a strong wind.

If you would listen closely, you might hear some wind chimes. Maybe even soft whispers.

Since the grove was consistently under temperatures, no soul ever dared to venture the dangerous woods, not even deliberating to take a little stroll just by the trees. The only beings that wandered the wood's acre were explorers and the fauna, of course.

However, except for a strange, young boy. 

He always longed to be a part of nature, always speaking to the trees, rocks, rivers, and the wind. Sometimes he could have sworn they spoke back to him in such a hushed tone, especially the wind. He admired observing the river's rushing water and the fish swimming quickly to get to their desired destination, climbing trees to experience the highest view of the land, and his most favourite: resting on a log and listening to the calming wind chimes around him.

He was truly a dreamer, wanting to be completely out of touch with reality.

Today was such a day for the young one to be roaming throughout the trees of the forsaken forest. His pale, golden eyes scanning the snow-covered cedar trees in hopes of finding a bird he could save, perhaps helping a bug from struggling to get up from its back. It was an unexciting day for him, but he felt guilty for saying such a thing, for he adored the woods with all his heart but today was just another day. Usually, his routines consisted of checking up on the plantation and hibernation. Most nights, he would huddle up under a tree and spend the night with nature.

Nevertheless, he continued aimlessly wandering the ivory woodland, humming a nostalgic tune from his beginnings to keep him company. He had caught sight of a frozen lake in his midst. Curious, the boy grew a warm smile and ventured over to the pond. As he got there, he plumped himself onto the ice; the bright look still present on his face. 

He soon remembered something. He remembered that he was alone and lonely. He remembered that there was no place to call home, no friend to kick rocks with―no one nor nothing. It made him dearly upset, it made him want to cry.

And he did just that. 

Glassy tears began to form in his shaking eyes, sobs escaping his throat. “N-No, I will not cry,” he cried, “there’s no need for tears. Not now.” he shook his head and reached down into his shoe to reveal a white, cotton handkerchief with a lily of the valley bouquet stitched onto it. The boy wiped his rainy eyes, sniffling as he did so. Sensitivity and negative emotionality were unfortunate strong traits of his, but it’s not like he could help it. It’s not like anybody could help him.

“Now, why are you crying again? You’re so problematic!” the voices would scold him. “No one is going to cradle you and tell you that everything is going to be lovely.” 

“M-Maybe, you’re right,” the boy sobbed, “crying seems to be u-useless, I just need to accept that this is my reality.” 

He continued to weep into his wet handkerchief as the snowfall increased, the snowflakes landing on his head and clothes, soaking him. 

A soft tingle of wind chimes was heard, suddenly ending the boy’s sorrowful moment. 

He whimpered softly and tucked the handkerchief down into his boot and stood up, almost losing his balance on the slippery ice. Maybe if he took a peaceful walk, he could reset his mind and daydream about the little world in his head. Because of his unhealthy state of mind, he came up with the solution that perhaps distracting himself from reality and his troubles would be creating his own reality, his own paracosm. His own world was much odder; there were demons with sharp fangs and claws and angels with pure wings and halos.

But he knew it was all just plain nonsense. 

The boy’s stroll was one of casual. It was just like his previous meander before breaking down. It was like that scene never happened. Perhaps he cries so much that he just moves on, adding to the problems. Oh well, he never seemed to care. He never cared about himself, either.

As he meandered, the young one ignored the birds that occasionally chirped at him with familiarity. His gambol seemed to feel like an eternity with how much time passed—it was almost twilight. And that meant darkness would crawl up from its hiding and torment the poor thing.

Something about the scenery changed. It was just bright and white a few moments ago, and now there was a dark ambiance with grey. He noticed the once pale flowers were a dark hue and the powdery birds were replaced with sable crows; their stare giving off an intimidating sensation.

“This is odd...” He mused out loud. As soon as he spoke, the crows only unblinkingly observed him. He avoided eye contact with the stalking crows, thankfully not starting a raucous. There was something he learned about the crows: if you are cruel, they will remember it. 

His eyes noticed something tall in the midst. There were towering columns with such ancient detail. A suspicious expression grew on his face, he had no recollection of structures in the grove. Maybe he had not explored the entirety of the forest? Maybe he just forgot about its existence? 

Such a surreal moment for him. Curious, he builds up the courage to investigate.

The supposedly sacred columns had a pathway as if leading to something. From his experience with literature, as in looking at illustrations instead of reading manuscripts, the columns had reminisced of an old, historic event about resurrections. Perhaps this was one of the many locations of attempted summonings? That could explain the cracks in the statues.

Growing more fascinated, he continues walking along the large pedestals. He was soon met with a small clearing serving as the destination. The clearing was occupied by a smaller plinth in the middle, silver chains were winding around the lower part like a decoration. He approached the plinth, noticing that an object resembling a dagger was stabbed right through the middle.

How odd. Why would such a dangerous thing be unattended and left in the middle of nowhere? Nevertheless, the boy grew interested. He thinks that he could use this blade to protect himself from the harassing townspeople? ...Or use it on himself? Maybe, just maybe, this anonymous blade held importance. 

With such fragility, his gloved hands took hold of the black grip, using all his strength to unsheathe the blade. To his surprise, it smoothly released; cutting him the trouble. 

The blade was a shiny, silvery tone. The pattern tendrils of vines connecting to dark roses. Not to mention, it was deathly sharp. The dagger was beautiful to look at, as well as surprising considering the condition of the area around him.

To the boy’s unawareness, more crows were resting high above; some situated on tree branches and some situated on the columns’ surfaces. They knew what would come next.

Without warning, a dark light illuminated abruptly from the dagger. Alarmed, his complexion grew ghostly pale and immediately dropped the knife. Sable wind began to orbit around the knife, then swiftly whirling a few feet away from the unsupervised dagger. It looked like a small tornado filled with darkness and toxicity. The frightened one gasped in fear from this, soon regretting opening his mouth as he inhaled a large amount of venomous air. He began to cough vigorously—those harsh coughs turning into chokes.

It felt as though someone was suffocating him. The lack of oxygen drew him to weary vision, to on the verge of unconsciousness. His eyelids shut tightly as he gripped his heart as if it were to drop out at any given moment. His ears were lowered and rung from the ear-straining, rambunctious noise the wind gave off. He only covered his ears and cowered in a ball as an attempt to protect himself.

Suddenly, the loud noises and the black wind came to an abrupt stop. The boy spent countless minutes trying to regain his oxygen and eyesight. He inhaled the now organic and clean air and exhaled out.

His beige eyes seemed to widen as the size of moons. There, sprawled on the snow in front of him, was a dark creature. He was just laying in front of the knife, his black-furred face deep within the snow. 

Overwhelming curiosity corrupted the boy’s mind.

The curious one recklessly stumbled over to the mysterious being. He kneeled on his knees and gently shook the creature. It was unresponsive, causing the boy’s heart to skip multiple beats. Millions of questions clouded his unstable mind; maybe it’s just sleeping? Maybe it’s only having a blackout? What if… It’s dead?

Dead?

“Sir?!” The panicked boy frantically rocked its body over, too scared to roll the thing’s body over on its back. “S-Sir? Are you okay? Please, wake up!” Although he did not know who exactly this being was, he still felt responsible for its existence. After all, it seemed that he did seem to summon it. Wait…

He halted his actions as he thought of something. What if this was a demon? It’s only logical, its connection with an unidentified knife, not to mention its appearance. The boy was on the verge of tears from this current situation. He never wanted to deal with any kind of death, and not too quickly either. It was like this man’s existence only lasted… Not even one second! It made him want to break down again because he knew he could have saved this innocent person.

The stranger was quite well dressed. He was accompanied by a black suit with matching loafers that blended in with his already twilight-coloured fur, despite his muzzle that seemed to be a ghostly white. And to top it all off, the same silver chains were hanging from his sides. He wanted to observe his face, but he did not want to disturb him. Perhaps he was just sleeping after all? Because once the boy settled down from his hysteria, he saw that he was lightly breathing. What a relief. 

The ivory one relaxed and sighed. ‘He’s okay.’ He says to himself. ‘He’ll wake up, just wait.’

Just as he was bathed in tranquility, a startling, unpleasant squawk was made from one the observing crows. The boy jumped and gave a surprised noise, now he could feel the anxiety crawling up from the depths of his mind. The alarming crow glided elegantly down to the senseless one, resting its sharp claws on his shoulder. He only watched the bird with intimidation. 

Momentarily, a low groan was heard. It was coming from the inactive one. The boy froze in such anticipation. He stared at his slow, jagged movements as he used his ink black claws to lift him upward. Such slowness, even a snail would have been faster than him. The ebony one let out a weak shiver from the coldness, unaware that there was someone in front of him.

His eyelids were hooded as if hiding hypnotic indigo irises from the boy. The creature mirrored the boy’s sitting position, kneeling, he connected his woebegone eyes with bright ones.

The boy’s head tilted to one side.

The demon copied.

The boy’s head tilted to the other side.

The demon copied.

The boy’s head returned the middle, he became interested in this creature. Everything about him was an origin. An origin he wanted to learn more of. Where did he come from? How did he get here? Who—or what—is he? Most importantly, where’s his mouth?

“U-Um… Sir? Are you okay?” He spoke in a soft tone, as to not frighten the man. Said man only stared with his chatoyant eyes. “W-What’s your name?” It took such a while for the other to respond, it almost felt like a century.

“Mephitus… Was the name given by my creator.” His voice was husky and susurrous, giving waves of strange sensations to the boy. It sounded so heartbroken and sorrowful, it made the other declare to be on sympathetic terms with him.

“Oh, well, mine is Lou.” The boy said, glad that he could communicate. It also bewildered him how exactly he could speak to him with the absence of a mouth.

Mephitus carefully stood up from the snowy ground, their eyes still in contact. “Forgive me for my sudden appearance, for frightening you.” 

“N-No, it’s okay. I-I just thought you were—“ Lou cut himself off as the crow cooed towards Mephitus. He only steadily changed his gaze to the knife. Lou noticed and followed his eyes.

“Oh, the knife,” he lifted himself up and walked over to the snow-covered blade, picking it up. "Does this belong to you? I-I’m sorry I took it.”

A shadowy claw reached out for the blade, nearly shaking. Mephitus murmured something under his breath, something Lou could not understand. It was not English, but it sounded like a foreign, ancient language to him. 

“You…” He spoke in such a ghostly tone. “You must be the fated one who awakened me from the void.” His midnight orbs looked into sunny ones. Mephitus’ behaviour was one of peculiar; just a moment ago he was, an understatement, dead-like. Then he showed sophistication and politeness. Now, he appeared to be in a flabbergasted daze. He was so confusing, so arcane.

Lou did not question it, however. Because he knew that he was not mortal. He was something else entirely.

The demon then did something that surprised him. He bowed, classically. Lou did not understand.

“As awoken from the destined one, I, Mephitus, will be your servant and at your command. And bring you whatever you desire at all times, and in what form or shape soever you please.” He solemnly vowed. Lou blinked. But before he could speak, he felt an odd sensation from the blade. He quickly looked to see that it was shining as if reflecting off of something bright. The sun was covered by the clouds, so he was puzzled, to say the least.

He looked to see the bright blade. There, as if carved freshly, was an “L” at the beginning of the vines and roses. 

“The confirmation is complete… Master.” Now that caused shivers down Lou’s spine.

“Wh— Master? What do you mean?” Lou stammered. His eyes were hyperactive, switching to the dagger then to his tempter.

The raven retreated from the scene and stalked closely with the other observers on nearby branches, waiting for the tradition to commence.

The ebony one then ambled to the boy. He lifted his arms up to grab the dagger, Lou strangely obliged. He did not understand why exactly he obeyed to someone he did not know. It was probably those hypnotic, toxic eyes of his. His pitch-black fingers glided smoothly over the grip and the clean blade, tracing the “L” in a devoted manner.

“I see you are still in this frozen heartache…” He spoke slightly appalling. He was appalled that he was still here, in the mortal world, suffering. Lou waited too long to escape this abusive reality. It upset Mephitus greatly from his little loss of innocence. “...Do you wish to escape from this travesty that caused you endless pain and misery? To live in a world of your own that will bring you the happiness you longed for?”

“Well, I…” He began memories of his younger self shown in his mind. He was right, there was not a single moment of true joy in his lifetime. The times were so cruel. They were so cruel to him. It drove him to loss of hope—the desire to just… Wait, how did he know about the abuse the world caused him? 

“Master?” Mephitus broke his train of thoughts. He noticed quickly that there were tears in his eyes. Again. The demon walked over to the weeping boy and gently wiped his tears away with a keen digit. Lou puffed; his sclera red. 

“I-I don’t want to be here a-anymore.” He sobbed like a hopeless child. “They… They brought me so m-much pain. T-They never cared about me. They never helped me.” He only stood there and croaked out, staring into the darkness of his eyes.

“Master, I can free you from this hurtful life. Do you really yearn for that wish?” Lou slowly nodded, not caring anymore. 

Did he know him? No. Could he trust him? Maybe, maybe not. Did he care? Not a single bit. He was not hesitating anymore. He loved the planet, yes, but certainly not the people. Mephitus said that there was happiness to whatever world that they were traveling to, he believes him. Maybe he is just too naïve. 

Mephitus then did something that Lou did not expect, something that caught him off guard. Everything he does is a surprise, maybe he should just expect the expected. He had wrapped him in a relaxing slow dance. Lou only thought that this could cheer him up and distract him, but it was only more stressful because he never danced before. Especially with another.

Lou was so overwhelmed with grief that he did not even try to dance along with him. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, not moving as much as he slumped over Mephitus as he leads on. Mephitus wanted to make his last moments of life somewhat peaceful and blissful, succeeding as he saw a tender smile form on his lips. 

The ebony creature began to hum a soft, euphonious tune to add to the calmness. It relaxed him and treated to his weeping. They both lazily twirled around in the cold, ignoring the increasing snowfall. 

Today was such an abnormal day for the boy. First, he finds a blade. Second, the blade caused a summoning of a demon. Third, the demon announced him as his Master. Not to mention, the crows.

Something about the crows bothered him. He didn’t like them. He knew that they had some sort of connection with Mephitus. And with Mephitus now following him around, the crows will too. 

Lou shut his eyelids and listened to the harmonious melody Mephitus produced. It really did help him. Though, something about the lullaby caused him to get a brief feeling of déjà vu. Lou dismissed his suspicions and continued to sway tiredly; a smile still present.

This man made him feel an emotion he longed to feel: pure joy and delight. It was so weird that a stranger, of all beings, made him feel this way. Maybe it was some silly destiny?

Mephitus’ song softly faded away. He gave Lou one last enjoyable twirl before committing something he would regret dearly. But, he had to do it.

He just had to.

Before Lou could say about how joyful he was, he felt a sensation so horribly painful. He had trouble breathing, he had trouble speaking a word, he had trouble trying to protect his gory wound. 

Lou’s neck was mercilessly sliced open.

How could this be?

Why?

Fresh blood poured from his vulnerable neck like a crimson waterfall. A waterfall he was drowning in. He tried desperately to stop the bleeding, but it just kept on spewing out. It spilled to the snow, turning the bright hue a dark red. Lou frantically looked back at his murderer, who which, was calmly looking back. He saw his clasped hands trembling. 

His vision slowly faded out, taking one last glance at Mephitus. Betrayal and despair—the only emotions that could describe his peril. Glee and joyfulness was something he finally experienced, but now, that was a thing of the past. 

Lou’s once bright, sunny eyes formed into empty, deathly ones. His clothes were drenched in dark blood, some even got on Mephitus’ own clothes. Mephitus was not worried about that now. He was worried that this ritual would fail and his first Master could be officially dead. But he was more worried that Lou would hate him when he supposedly awakes. Oh, he would. After all, anyone would have a hard time forgiving you if you were to viciously slash away at their neck.

Lou’s body fell onto his chest lifelessly, his eyes staring into nothingness. Mephitus only embraced him and closed his eyelids as he wiped some blood from his mouth. 

Purity and innocence. Lost in a heartbeat.

His manipulative claws stroked his white fur with a slow, fragile pace. He collapsed with him to the cold earth and only rested his chin on the crown of his head, staring off into the blizzard in the distance. The demon cradled the boy in his arms as heavy snow covered them both. 

The crows watch closely.

End Chapter One


	2. Ageless Fields

The angelic dove was cooing and fluttering continuously above the unconscious boy’s head. They were one of the patient, opposing to the crows. Soon enough, the boy awoke with a startle. Lou had to regain his senses before facing reality. But he was only met with a peaceful dove that cooed once more, its harmless claws situating softly onto the boy’s head. A lovely welcoming.  
He allowed the bird to rest on his head as pale eyes examined the surrounding area. It certainly was not the winter forest he was familiar with, it was much more green. Confused, he leaned up from the rainbow flower bed he was laying on. Lou was crowded by different variations of flora, some of which he has never seen before. There were towering trees, bushes with all kinds of healthy berries, and what seemed like millions upon millions of flowers. A delightful aroma was given off from the plants, like lavender mixed with vanilla.  
Lou could not decipher where exactly he was. Logically, he thought about what happened beforehand. The only thing he remembers was the mysterious blade, the crows, and his throat being mercilessly being cut open.  
Was he dead?  
His hand moved to his neck, it was clean and untainted as if never sliced open.  
‘Maybe it was all a dream.’ He thought. A disturbing, morbid dream. A dream that could only perfectly describe his life as having a moment as pure glory right before a horrible event takes place. At the same time, it was a dream he wished was real. He gained an acquaintance, someone who supposedly admires him. He finally witnessed the feeling of acceptance and warmth. It was all he could ever ask for.  
He didn’t want to think about that right now, all he needed to think about was the realm he was in and how he got here. A part of him thought that he was in a heavenly place or maybe someplace in his dreams. Lou examined the area by walking, listening to indistinct birds chirping and the soft breeze that flowed through the trees. The bright sun was illuminating from the trees’ leaves, giving off a warm sensation that calmed his worries. The temperature was fair; warm with a slight cold breeze. He continued onward, trying to maneuver through the crowded plants that grew wild all over the place. Occasionally, he would get tangled in jasmine vines and cross vines. Lou had no sense of direction to where he was going, but he was hoping to find structures that would lead to something important.  
He was dépaysemented.  
His pale ears perked at the inaudible sound of a stringed instrument playing a serene melody with such fragility. Curious, the boy wandered to the direction of the placid tune. He knew he was getting close from how loudly silent the tone was. Soon enough, Lou caught sight of a stoned structure tangled in juniper ivy and vine with wide, grassy stairs. He gently brushed away the clustering plants and leaves and strolled over to the moss-dominated building. A wooden arch door, covered in periwinkle flowers, was displayed on the front wall. The door was open, just a little. Lou carefully creaked open the arch and shyly peeked through as to not disturb the thing that was playing the melody. The room was spacey compared to the outside, with supporting columns, —which gave him deja vu—large trees growing wildly, flowers and grasses covering the stoned ground, and with the completion of the culprit in a golden sunlit spotlight who was producing the melody.  
As the stringed song continued, Lou silently walked toward the creature, who seemed to be dressed in ancient clothing and very old in age compared to him. The being was sitting down while their shaky hands strummed the wooden instrument, tweeting birds and branches placed on their hat—seemingly in the Russian sense. As Lou walked to the old one, he got a clear look to see that they were female, looking wise and knowledgeable.  
“That’s a very lovely tune,” Lou spoke with an admirable smile. The strumming up the scales and down still continued, a hoarse chuckle being heard.  
“Lou, miss. Who are you?”  
“You may call me Hertia, Miss Hertia, mind you,” Lou observed her form. She was crouched over with the wooden instrument occupied in her lap. Her style was traditional, a white dress designed by golden and red details covered by a maroon quilt, accompanied by shimmering jewelry, a masquerade-like mask to hide her eyes, and a headdress with resting birds and flowers growing and a white, cascading veil to the back. She resembled a bride, an ageless and forgotten one. “Oh, I’ve awaited your arrival for many years. I’ve been guarding these fields for… Oh, maybe a few centuries? It’s been such a blur, especially when you’re just resting in one location.”  
“...Guarding from who?”  
“Infernal demons, of course. They’ve become more determined it seems…” The melody continued softly as different birds of all colours tap at the earth. “Ever since he ruled, things have been more bloody.”  
The strumming stopped, shivering his spine and adding apprehensiveness.  
“The demons, they desire power. He chooses to rule over Idyll and possibly the mortals. Oh, it’s just been so chaotic, that’s why we need a redeeming saviour.”  
The porcelain one blinked. Why did everyone have to speak so confusingly? All he knows is that Idyll is innocent and Inferno is guilty.  
“I hope this isn’t troubling for you, but, where am I?” He said as he looked around the lush cathedral.  
“The Ageless Fields, this is where all travelers end up after the resurrection.”  
“R-Resurrection?” Lou froze, now recollecting the memories. The blade, the crows, Mephitus, his death. Did Hertia know about this?  
“Why so awestruck, destined one?” Hertia cooed owlishly.  
“Miss H-Hertia?” He dropped to his knees to reach her level. “Am I d-dead?” Lou’s eyes were wide as if he were about to cry. Again.  
“Now, what are you going on about, child?” Hertia’s covered eyes might have known what he was talking about, causing her dark orbs to drift off to the side. “Ah… oh, dear child, you’re safe here. Nothing happened to you, you are very much alive. I encourage you that everything is alright.” She spoke comfortingly.  
Lou sighed and crossed his legs. Even if he were dead, he wouldn’t be upset. That’s what he wanted; a ticket to freedom. He didn’t want to suffer anymore in his life, he wanted happiness and care. Don’t be mad at him, he says, thank him, you’re free now.  
The old woman then hummed and reached into her scarlet quilt, taking out something sharp and dark. Illuminating in from the sunlight, skyward and noble, was the familiar blade from the scene before. Many questions flooded Lou’s mind, where did she get it? Why is it here? It also gave him horrid memories of his unprotected neck being slain. It was the same design; black roses and twisting vines, the shadowy grip, and the same “L” freshly carved into. This was real.  
“I presume you met Mephitus?” The fact that Hertia had known about him was a surprise.  
“How is that here?”  
“...Mephitus was sealed away?”  
“Oh, very. Until now, you’ve awoken him after a thousand years… As for Clairius, no one knows what happened to her, or if she’s still existing to this day.” Lou was thankfully able to think straight enough to make this information out. The maiden—who he still didn’t know—created Idyll, so as the reverend—nor did he know—created Inferno. He guesses that Mephitus was supposedly innocent at first until he was manipulated. And Clairius, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Mephitus was all that was on his mind right now.  
Lou sighed and stood up. “Well, what does that mean for me?”  
“You must help us, fated one. Without a mortal soul to aid us, all will be doomed…” Hertia plea was urgent and life-threatening. She weakly stood up with her supporting staff. “Do you accept this burden, destined youth?”  
The boy glared at the sable dagger, which was now protected by a dark, shiny sheath. Lou then met his marigold irises to Hertia’s hidden ones. He was hesitant at first, what was he supposed to do, fight, or save? With the assistance of someone wise, maybe he could make it out in one piece. But what if he doesn’t?  
Oh, to hell with it.  
“I’ll do it.” Lou agreed confidently.  
“Bless you, young one,” Relieved by his acceptance, Hertia grabbed another thing from her large quilt. It appeared to be a plain, white cloak. “Put this on, not only will it make you appear like an Angel, it will keep your nice and warm.” The old woman spoke motherly as she handed the clothing to him. When he put it on, it stopped to his knees and had a hood for helpful anonymity.  
“...What about Mephitus?” Lou asked, adjusting the cloak. “Since he’s connected with the blade, he must be here, right?”  
Hertia hummed and brought the dark knife to his heart as he grabbed its grip. “Her Mercy have blessed you now, if you wish to summon Mephitus, shine the dark blade against the light.” She anciently stated and the boy nodded. From the sunlight gleaming in from the vibrant Tiffany glass, he raised the dagger’s grey edge to the rays of light. Immediately, the black roses illuminated with white, signifying the successful arrival.  
“I-It’s you,” the shaken one said as he stared in awe. “I thought you weren’t real.” Lou studied his every twitch of movement, which was slow and unresponsive.  
Mephitus seemed to ignore him as his gaze took its time staring at the dropped knife. His eyes seemed to twinkle in satisfaction. Sauntering over to the shiny thing, he picked it up and glided his fingertips down the inky roses and tendril vines. The demon’s piercing eyes carefully met the boy’s pale and trembling eyes. Threatening or admirable? He didn’t know.  
“...I see you’ve awakened, Master.” The silky voice gave Lou an odd feeling. Although his behaviour from before was presentable and sophisticated, it appeared that being trapped in the blade changed him. Lou now refused to isolate him, if he had to. “I… Do imagine that you are dearly upset by my actions before. My sincere apologies… But it had to be done.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head in a respectable manner, hoping to gain Lou’s acceptance.  
“I’m actually grateful,” Mephitus grew weary from this response, but at least he wasn’t upset. “Thank you.”  
“Mephitus… I’ve longed to see you awake again. Welcome back.” Hertia mused, trying to remember the last time she saw him. She earned a nod in response. “I imagine you’re not up to date on current events?”  
“I’ve heard about the catastrophe.”  
“Ah, good, good.” Hertia exchanged glances with the porcelain one. “Now that forgiveness has been made, it’s time to commence the adventure. Come, follow me.” The ancient beckoned as she stepped down the moss-covered stone. The demon followed her command as the other hurried to catch their pace.

—————

Lou’s eyes sparkled with amazement at the object he was seeing. A large, round entryway with hanging vines, enclosed by a stable astrological clock. The detail was captivating, golden and blue hues with stars. The golden hands were wave-like, frozen in time from the last use—if it ever was used. Roman numerals looped around the stone, going up to the digit twenty-four. Yet, the clock was still in inactivity for what seemed like centuries.  
“Oh, the hand is still at one. Yes, that is very good,” the old one nodded her head towards the astronomical details. “This will give you time to help your journey… Twenty-four days until succession.”  
“T-Twenty-four?!” Lou exclaimed. “That won’t be enough time, Miss Hertia!” He gazed at her then to Mephitus, who was quietly observing their conversation.  
“Soften your tone, boy,” Hertia wagged her ringed finger. “Now, dear fate, that is quite enough time. With the guidance of Mephitus, everything will go by in a blink of an eye. I assure you.”  
“But… What if we don’t meet the due?” The anxious one whispered, afraid of the answer. Surely this was going to be a difficult task for him to do.  
“...Well, that would you’ve failed your mission. We will all be doomed,” Hertia had a hint of worry in her tone. “But, don’t you fret, young one. You can both succeed and defeat Inferno, oh, I just know it.”  
Mephitus snapped his head toward her comment about that familiar place, but dismissed his upcoming disagreement. He knew that arguments could lead to accusations, he didn’t want to risk it.  
“Now, Lou, stand before the time and place your hand in the centre.” Hertia turned back to him and commanded, to which, he obliged and stepped forward. The middle of the clock only had a display of an ancient sun, which eyes were closed in a dormant state. His gloved hand gently placed on the gold symbol, taking time to register as its celestial irises began to shine. The boy was taken aback by this action, snatching his hand back from unnease. The astrological details and symbols began to rotate steadily, the wavy hands ticking until they hit twenty-four.  
“Ah, beautiful! The heavenly eyes now shine, everything seems to be in order…” The ancient one murmured, studying the active clock to see if there were any mistakes; thankfully, everything was precise. Lou was amazed by this technology if you could call it that. The primitive wall that placed the clock was shimmering with golden light from the maze-like crevices.  
“Well then, Lou, before you chose to begin your quest, I must lend you some resources that will guide you. After all, we do want you back in one piece.” Hertia wisely said, reaching in her shawl once again to retrieve the following items: two glass bottles, a small bag of fruits, a cloth, bandages, a small light, a tub of white paint, violet flowers, and a small locket that displayed the twenty-four days—all kept in a spacey satchel.  
“Oh, Miss Hertia, I-I can’t take this—” he whined guiltily as if he were stealing from her.  
“Nonsense, I have no use for these things,” Hertia insisted, forcing him to grab the surprisingly lightweight satchel. “Do you have anything else you’re going to bring with you?”  
“W-Well, I have a slingshot,” guessing by Hertia’s blank expression, he explained the concept. Lou reached under his shirt to find the wooden thing, which was tucked at his side. He held it up, displaying the blandness of the wood and the stolen strap. “You aim it with something hard, like—” the boy reached down to grab a small rock. With one hand, he placed the rock in the pocket, and with the other, he grasped the stick and took aim at nothing in particular. “That.”  
Snap! It went, making the old one jump.  
“Interesting… Is this enough to harm your foe?”  
“Maybe, but it could come in handy.” Lou tucked the weapon into his bag then turned to the astronomical device. He gazed over to his tempter, who was silently caressing a lovely dove. One thing he knew right off the bat about Mephitus was that he was extremely introverted at times. It could be good or bad in the near future.  
The dark one sensed his preparation, allowing the light dove to fly away freely as he walked over to the clock. Mephitus noticed his Guardian’s look was slightly embarrassed.  
“I’m sorry that took too long, I almost forgot about you.” He gave an awkward laugh.  
“No worries, tend to your deeds… And do not be too hard on yourself.” Lou knew he had to heed that advice. He looked over to Hertia, who was looking through his satchel to make sure she didn’t forget anything important. She grabbed the silver locket that had the informational time, looking to see the small sun symbol’s orbs on the base gleaming.  
“Keep this with you at all times, Lou, it’s crucial to your journey. I recommend having it in Mephitus’ possession.” She pressured that one specific object. He nodded and gave the miniature clock to the said demon, who secured it within his black coat. Hertia grasped her staff and spoke something that was clearly not English. It also gave him déjà vu, he would have thought it sounded similar to what Mephitus said beforehand.  
As she spoke the foreign language, a blinding light irritated Lou’s eyes. The large sun with piercing, solar eyes appeared to transform into something that looked like a clear mirror. The reflection showed a seraphic, ghostly scene, he could vaguely see a stoned path with lilies, buttercups, daffodils, and amaryllises. Its atmosphere had white dove feathers flowing silently with star-like orbs illuminating every so often. It didn’t seem too big, but big enough for them to gain any useful insight that would help. The boy reached out his hand to see if it was physical, and it was. His hand turned transparently pearl, he resembled a ghost. Lou’s hand returned to its side, unaffected by the causes, and peered to Hertia, whose old hands were entwined in a plea.  
“O, maiden of the heavens, please grace our youth with strength, faith, and courage. May he remain victorious even in the loss of times.” She whispered, her hidden eyes shut. Once finished, she increased her tone for the advice. “Well, destined one, I must inform you that you will be entering the passageway of Idyll—” Mephitus tensed “—fear not, this isn’t the heavenly realm you long to be in, this location is but a traditional test to see if you’re worthy or not. When done, you will be meeting Lilium, she’s heard of your arrival and she is urgent to meet you.” She exhaled heavily, meeting his eyes alarmingly. “Lou, I must warn you that this burden will not sympathize with you or Mephitus. There will be many, many challenges. Just be warned that they might result in bloodshed… Be careful and wise. Now, go. Prove your fate.”  
With those sacred words spoken in such a hushed tone buried in his consciousness, the new adventurer turned to the mesmerizing realm pictured beyond him. His focus steadied on his companion, Mephitus. His midnight irises met his pale, lighter ones that shown worry and self-doubt. Lou slowly placed a grin on his quivering lips and the demon bowed toward the mirror.  
“After you.”  
The confident smile still shown on his face, he took one big militaristic-like step into the ethereal reflection. The demon peered back at the foregone woman, his eyes displaying nothing but a blank stare. Threatening or thanking? She didn’t know, neither did she know what he was doing exactly. Mephitus steadily moved his gaze to the parallel and vanished into the transparency.

End Chapter Two.


End file.
